I was tempted to head for Zchellenin that very night, but despite all the feasting and napping, we were still not recovered from our lengthy journey. So, being the only one with both a brain and the power of speech, I made the executive decision that we would stay twenty-four more hours in lovely Balszt, and leave for the small town the following night.
Not that any of my companions seemed disappointed with my decision. It gave us more time to enjoy the city, and the very comfortable (if tiny) hotel room back at The Majestic. The witch behind the front desk had finally gone off shift; her replacement was equally charming, and even chattier. When she learned where I was from, she informed me that the hotel had a sister property in San Francisco.
“You’re kidding!” I said.
“Not at all. It’s on Sutter Street, at Gough.”
I thought a moment. “I know that hotel! I had no idea it was witchkind.”
She smiled. “Humans are allowed to stay there.”
“I’ll be sure to stop in and say hi when I get home,” I told her. “And tell them what a nice time I’ve had here.”
“Please do. Tell them Guinevere says hello.”
The next day flew by. Even though I told myself I was not here on vacation, it was hard not to let myself forget, for a time, why I was here, and just explore the wonderful strangeness of the place.
But as I touristed around, I also thought about what the librarian had told me about the Iron Rose, and about warlocks in general. It sure seemed to be a witches’ world here.
I wondered how long this situation would last. It didn’t seem entirely…stable.
It seemed like the kind of thing that could lead a morally challenged, old, powerful warlock to lash out against witchkind. To steal power from witches…even while pretending to heal them, pretending to hunt down and punish whoever might be preying on them.
To be fair, there were a few warlocks in Gregorio’s basement of horrors.
But not very many.
Near midnight on my second day there, we regretfully checked out of The Majestic and prepared to hit the road—or, rather, the ley line. The desk clerk from my first day, Magrit, was back on the job. “We will keep your room for you until you leave the country,” she assured me, even though I told her I was unsure of my exact plans. She wouldn’t hear of my protests. “We have plenty of space, and the capacity to squeeze more if we need it. But this is a slower time of year, so please don’t give it another thought.”
I couldn’t dissuade her, so I stopped trying. “Thank you,” I said, and took my leave.
We could have traveled straight to Zchellenin’s main square in one uninterrupted jump, and it wouldn’t have taken more than a half-hour, but I wanted to arrive far more quietly. So we took a few hours, emerging in a dark patch of woods a short walk from the outskirts of the town.
I stood there, baby strapped to my chest, golem and cat beside me, as I let my magic take the measure of the place.
It was dark here, certainly darker than the capital had been. And I don’t just mean the absence of streetlights. There was a sad, ugly feeling to the very trees, the soil they grew in, the heavy, damp air around me that smelled of something stale and foul.
“Mistress Callie,” Petrana said softly. “There is different magic here.”
“I am feeling that,” I told her, just as quietly. At my feet, I could sense Elnor’s fur standing on end, even though I couldn’t quite see it. “Does anyone have any ideas about the specifics?” I asked, because why not? Petrana had surprised me before.
Rosemary reached out her tiny hands and grabbed at my shirt, as if she wanted to nurse. “Not now, sweetie,” I whispered to her. But she kept grabbing, and soon had hold of my braid, which had somehow migrated over my shoulder where she could reach it, though there was no wind.
I gently pulled the braid out of her hands. She didn’t want to let go. “Ba-ba-ba,” she said. If I didn’t know better, I would swear she sounded cross.
“Now is not the time to decide to learn how to cry,” I told her, patting her soft head, bouncing gently on the balls of my feet and rocking back and forth, trying to soothe her. “Come on, gang, let’s walk.”
I started through the trees in the direction of the village, picking my way slowly over the fallen leaves, trying to make as little noise as possible. Petrana followed; Elnor stuck close. We passed a darkened cottage. I didn’t dare send out my senses to see if anyone was inside. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t looking for a cottage; I was headed for Grand Laurel Merenoc.
The librarian’s directions had put the manufactory in the center of town, with offices adjacent to it, on a large piece of land with several outbuildings and storage sheds. It was clearly the village’s main industry. What had Logan’s parents done for jobs, when they lived here the first time? Had they worked for the company, or done something else?
It pained me to realize how little I knew of my best friend’s family history. Of course, her parents had disappeared when we were barely teenagers. I’d only met them a few times, and they were as interesting as any parents are, to a teenager: not at all.
And then they had come back and settled here once more. In a cottage on the outskirts of town…perhaps one like the darkened one I’d just passed. Perhaps even that very one.
I shivered and told myself it didn’t matter. I knew where their bodies were. It was their souls I was trying to track down now.
And everyone else’s.
At last, I saw a soft glowing light through the trees, and then another. I slowed, making doubly sure I was not detected. I passed a corral for horses (uninhabited for the night, but the smell made its function clear), and a barn, then a few small houses. The deer trail I’d been following widened into a people-path, then something like a road. It was mostly dirt, with stray cobblestones here and there—more impediment than anything else, I thought.
I was in Zchellenin.
I followed the road past more houses and barns, then what might have been an inn in happier days. And then I reached the central square. It was as gloomy as Balszt’s was vibrant; not a soul was out.
On the other side of the square was a large, squat building of dark stone. A small painted sign over its door read Grand Laurel Merenoc.
“Here we are,” I whispered to my companions.
We walked across the square, my boots clicking on the flat paving stones. There were three steps leading up to a set of double doors. Just as I was wondering how to petition for entrance—I didn’t see a door knocker or bell pull or anything—the left-hand door swung open.
A tall warlock stood there, wearing traditional dark robes—the kind our Elders wore when they were trying to be fancy or solemn or impressive. “Greetings, Calendula Isadora,” he said. “We’ve been expecting you.”
My heart beat fast in my chest. Rose pulled on my braid again, having somehow gotten her hand back around it. “You have me at a disadvantage,” I managed.
He cracked the faintest of smiles; it was gone in an instant. “I am Dr. Mar. Please come in.”
I wanted to go inside, I was here to go inside, I’d come all the way to the Old Country specifically so I could go inside, but…“You were expecting me? How?”
That smile flickered again, vanishing just as fast. “Dr. Andromedus sent word that you would be along.”
I didn’t fall over or pass out or anything. Rosemary yanked on my braid again; I untangled her hand once more, absently, as my mind raced. “I…I hadn’t mentioned to him that I was coming here,” I finally said.
Dr. Mar’s smile hung around a little longer this time. “Just so. Do please come in, the night is cold.”
Was it a trap? Well, if it was, it was already too late. I swallowed the anxious lump in my throat and took a step forward. Petrana took a step as well.
Dr. Mar put up an age-spotted hand. “Just you, Calendula Isadora.”
“Wait, what? No, we’re all together.”
He shook his head. “Creatures of unnatural magic are not permitted within the walls of Grand Laurel Merenoc. Nor are witches’ pets, nor minors. You may leave them all outside. I imagine the creature can take charge of the infant while we conduct our business.”
What business did he think I had here, anyway? I was not looking forward to finding out. “I can leave the golem, but my familiar and my daughter stay with me.” Why did warlocks have to be such assholes? He knew perfectly well what witches’ cats were for. And he wanted to separate a mother from a newborn?
“Then I must bid you a good evening.” He turned with a sweep of his ostentatious robes and started to close the door.
“Wait!” I cried.
He paused. “Yes?”
I thought fast. “I just have some questions. Can’t we come in for a few minutes—do you have a lobby or something?” A place where we won’t sully your precious manufactory?
“No.”
The door closed, and we were alone in the night again.
I sat down heavily on the steps and removed Rose’s fingers from my braid yet again. “Well,” I said to my companions. “That went well.”
Petrana walked down the steps, turned, and looked at me. “What are you going to do?”
“I don’t know. I have to think.”
“Dr. Mar knows we’re all still here,” she pointed out.
I nodded, the lump in my throat swelling, threatening to overwhelm me. “Yeah, and he knew I was coming—because somehow Gregorio figured it out and got word to him—and he’s probably listening to our conversation right now, and you know what? I don’t care!” I practically yelled, as if into an overhead speaker. “I’m tired of fighting so hard. I’m not some kind of international spy! I’m just a witch who wanted to make some actual decisions about her own actual life, and I’m tired of getting punished for it. I’m tired of trying so hard to get everything right, to be so careful, to keep all the secrets, to cover my tracks—only to find out it was all wasted effort anyway. I’m just tired!” I was on the verge of tears, frustrated and stymied, at the end of my rope. “I don’t even know what Gregorio wants from me,” I went on, in a lower tone, to my golem. “Here I thought I was so clever, and he probably knew that, um, we’d found that, uh, stuff in Berkeley all along.” But just in case he didn’t know literally everything—or who I’d been with—it was probably smarter not to blurt it all out on the very doorstep of Grand Laurel Merenoc. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I just don’t know,” I wound down, and finally gave up trying to hold back the tears.
As I wept, Rose made little cooing sounds against my breast, and Elnor came and nudged her head against my legs, rubbing against me. Even Petrana stepped forward, somewhat stiffly, and patted my arm. It was really sweet, and not a little weird.
Eventually, my tears ran their course. I wiped my eyes with my sleeve, getting some snot on my nose.
“I still don’t know what to do,” I said.
And that was the moment when my daughter sent me her first coherent mind-communication. Strong, I received, as clear as if she’d spoken aloud.
I gasped and pulled back, staring at her. Her dark eyes gazed back at me, still slightly unfocused. “Did you just…”
Strong, I got again.
“Oh, sweetie,” I said, leaning down to kiss the top of her head. “You smart, sweet, wonderful witchlet! You do speak!” I hadn’t even realized how much I hadn’t wanted to let myself worry about her lack of communication…I knew that not every witchlet or baby warlock communicated with their mother in the womb, but most of them did. And certainly, I’d never heard of one not “speaking” once she was born.
Of course, she was half-human, and Gregorio had made much of how weak she was going to be…but the relief poured through me all the same.
“Good girl!” I murmured, rocking her as we sat on the cold stone steps.
Petrana, bless her little mud-brain, didn’t look curious or confused at all. “Rosemary just sent a mind-thought to me,” I told her, anyway.
“That is good news, Mistress Callie.”
“It is. It is indeed.”
I still didn’t really wish she’d start crying…but that would be another sign of normalcy. Well, one thing at a time.
I got to my feet and brushed off the back of my snake-pants. “Well, I guess we ought to—”
Behind me, the door opened again.
I whirled around, ready to give Dr. Mar a piece of my mind, but a young warlock stood there instead. He looked to be hardly into his twenties, though of course, it was impossible to know for sure. His robes were like a junior, starter-version of Dr. Mar’s, and the power I could feel from him when I gave a reflexive, gentle probe was much less than that of the old warlock.
“Calendula Isadora?” he asked, almost timidly.
“Yes, that’s me.”
“I’m Dr. Spinnaker. I, um, Dr. Mar sent me to answer your questions.”
“Did he now?” I stepped up to him; he took an involuntary step back. Afraid of me? Really? “Is he going to let us come in?”
“Ah, um, no, still just you. But we can all step into the garden if you like.”
“Sure, fine.” I mean, what were my options? “Lead on.”
Dr. Spinnaker closed the door behind him and set a lock-charm before turning back to me. “This way.”
I followed him down the stairs and around to the side of the building. A half-moon had risen, at last, sending its pale light into a small courtyard.
“In here,” he said, leading us to a grouping of chairs. He stood until I was seated, then took a chair opposite me. “I am sorry for your, ah, reception here,” he said. “If you let me know what your questions are, I will do my best to answer them.”
His accent was a mix of Old Country and modern British English; my ear tried to parse it, until I reminded myself that it didn’t matter. “Thank you, Dr. Spinnaker,” I said.
He gave an embarrassed smile. “You can call me Helios if you like.”
I nodded. “Then you should call me Callie.”
“I will. So, Callie, what are your questions?”
I thought a moment. There were questions, and then there were things I might reasonably expect to get answers to. “I guess my first one is, um, when did Dr. Andromedus tell you-all that I was headed here?”
His smile eased, as he relaxed a tiny bit. “Perhaps a week ago? It was an ætheric message, of course, and you know how spotty those can be.”
“I do.” It was why Jeremy and I basically didn’t communicate the whole time he was over here. Well, part of the reason, anyway. “So the timing isn’t definite, but a week. Hmm.” Gregorio had clearly known where I was headed, probably even as I sent those clever messages to everyone, about going on retreat.
Bastard.
“That’s right. Though Dr. Mar didn’t let me know until you’d arrived on the continent.”
“I see.” Dr. Spinnaker—Helios—sounded a little put out about this. Hurt, wounded? “Did you, ah, should you have been told sooner?”
He shrugged, not altogether convincingly. “I have worked with Dr. Andromedus many times in the past. He had even spoken of bringing me to San Francisco to work in his laboratory there. I suppose I might have expected that he would send word through me.” He glanced away for a moment. “But of course, I’m just a junior scientist, nobody important at all. It was entirely appropriate that he should communicate with Dr. Mar.”
Ah. “Is Dr. Mar the director here, or president, or…?”
“He is the owner of the company. Well, it’s a family-owned business, has been for generations. He’s the current senior member of the Mar family. I guess president would be the best equivalent; his actual title is just Senior.”
“What does the company do, exactly?” I tried. “I know you make machinery. I saw a few in Berkeley, and I am curious about them.” I saw no reason to hide this anymore. And maybe it would ease the flow of information if I didn’t look like I was keeping secrets.
“We do make machinery, that’s all that we do. For research.” I just looked at him. Vague much? You sound like me at the border control office. He went on, “Well, lots of different kinds of things. The nexus between science and magic, and how the two forces work together.”
“The two forces? Are you saying science is a force?”
He shook his head. “No, not like that. I mean—oh, it’s hard to explain. Tell me what machines you saw and I’ll see if I can be more specific.”
I cast my mind back, making sure I got the unfamiliar words right. “The one I’m most curious about said Enchin Aberra on it, just under the company name.”
“Ah.” He frowned, nodding, and looking at his feet. “That’s a complicated one. It does a number of different things.” Before I could give him the look again, he went on. “You say you saw it in Berkeley. In Dr. Andromedus’s lab?”
Kind of. “Yes.”
“And you came all the way to the Old Country to ask about it, rather than asking Dr. Andromedus himself? Or even sending word to us?”
I stared back at this warlock. On my chest, Rose started patting at my breasts, with both hands. Strong she said again.
Thrilled as I was that she was talking to me now, this wasn’t exactly helping. I patted her head and said to Helios, “Yes, I did. There were some very personal reasons why I didn’t want to ask him about it. Why I wanted to come here myself.” I swallowed, deciding to take it further. What the hell. “In fact, I very specifically didn’t tell Dr. Andromedus I was even making this trip, yet somehow he knew. He’s doing some things back home that I don’t think are good news—for any of us. I’m trying to get to the bottom of it. Understanding what he’s doing, very specifically, should help me figure this out.” I held his eye. “If you can help me, that’s great, I would appreciate it. I suspect all of witchkind would appreciate it. But if Dr. Andromedus is, I don’t know, invested in this company in some way—if he has the power to turn me away or keep information from me, just let me know. I’ll figure out some other way to get what I need.”
There. Maybe I’d signed my own death warrant. Who knew? Maybe I could take my little household and move to Svalbard or something. Surely Gregorio wouldn’t pursue me there.
Helios Spinnaker gave a small sigh, shifted the cross of his legs, gave a larger sigh, and finally got to his feet and paced across the small courtyard. Looking back at me, he said, “I’m sorry, Calendula Isadora, but that’s the best I can do.”
Almost concurrently, he sent me an ætheric message: Meet me at noon in the Spanish Market.
I blinked, also rising to my feet. “Um, well, thank you anyway. I guess I’ll…head back to Balszt now.”
“I regret that we could not be of more help. Please enjoy your stay in the Old Country.” He held out his hand and I shook it. Then he turned and slipped into a side door, leaving us alone in the moonlit courtyard.
“I told you not to check out,” the desk clerk at The Majestic said cheerfully, when I turned up an hour later. “See? Magrit knows best.”
“Thanks, Magrit,” I said, happy to be back.
She handed the golden key across the counter. “The room has been freshened up, and it’s all ready for you and yours.” She made goofy faces at Rose, who maybe smiled at her in return. Or maybe it was gas. Who can tell with babies?
“Where is the Spanish Market?” I asked her. “Is that here in the city?”
“Oh, indeed it is! Fun little district, I can’t believe I didn’t think to mention it earlier. Of course, it doesn’t get the attention that the more major sites do. It’s over on the other side of the river…here, I can show you on the map…”
Back in our room, I sat on the bed, opened my blouse to nurse Rosemary, and thought about what I had learned. Or, rather, what I hadn’t learned.
Had I wasted everyone’s time, and a colossal amount of energy, coming here?
No, that couldn’t be true. I couldn’t let myself believe that. What was Helios going to tell me tomorrow at noon? This reminded me all too poignantly of Sebastian getting a sudden hankering for coffee, then dragging me out to whisper his concerns about Gregorio in a crowded café.
Warlocks and their secrets. Honestly.
But I needed to know those secrets. To expose them. Those secrets were not just ruining my life; they were threatening us all.
Was I ever going to feel safe again?